Chicken Bones Couldn't Sleep

Chicken Bones had brushed her teeth and washed her face. She had on her new pink flowered flannelette nightgown. Chicken Bones’ dad had read her a story and she was safely tucked into her bed. Chicken Bones’ mom was tidying up the living room. Chicken Bones knew her big sister Nancy would be climbing into her bed, on the other side of the room, very soon. Her biggest sister Thora would go to her own room next door a little after that. But Chicken Bones couldn’t sleep. It was Christmas Eve.
Chicken Bones thought about….
• the Sunday school pageant and wondered if she would ever get a leading role. (Chicken Bones was a fir tree again.)
• being born in a stable. She wondered if it was stinky and scratchy in there for that new little baby.
• frankincense. It was scary because it reminded her of Frankenstein.
• her dad struggling with bricks and a pail and the tree. Chicken Bones knew that she should sit very quietly on the turquoise couch while he worked. She knew that he would finally get it standing straight and then she could help decorate it.
• the presents hidden in her mom’s closet. She wished she hadn’t snuck in and looked at all of them already.
• how hard it was to wait.
• her great aunts in Montreal and Ottawa, and the gifts they sent from their travels all over the world. She knew she would get fancy new clothes from Holt Renfrew. She would also get unusual little items like PlayPlax blocks and scarecrow heads filled with even tinier treasures. She already knew this because the aunts wrapped their gifts with only ribbon and no tape, so it was easy to unwrap and rewrap without tell tale signs of snooping.
• being sneaky.
• her mom and dad’s Dutch friends, Paul and Toos. She was embarrassed that she already said “thank you for the chocolate letter” to them before she went to bed, when she hadn’t opened the letter yet. But she knew that’s what she would be getting because that’s what they gave her every year.
• ablekage. She loved it when her mom made this dessert for Christmas Eve because it made the night feel Danish.
• a road race set, a model town, an etch-a-sketch, a Cheerful Tearful doll, a Raggedy Ann and other stuff she asked Santa for.
• Santa. Chicken Bones worried that he might not fill her stocking if she didn’t get to sleep soon.
• Maurice and Dodie. She was glad that they always came out for Christmas Eve to have supper and open presents. Dodie always laughed lots, and Chicken Bones felt happy when she saw them holding hands.
• love.
• her foster sister Marlene and Marlene’s husband Jim. She wished they were there, too because they took such good care of her when she was a scrawny baby, and Jim gave her the special nickname, Chicken Bones.
• feeling small and cozy.
• ribbon candy, mixed nuts, sugar cookies and shortbread.
• pretending to act surprised in the morning.
• the empty glass and plate she would find on the kitchen counter…magical proof that Santa had been there.
• being excited and silly and full and tired and loved.

Good night.

Conni from Clandeboye
December 2010

Hard to wait.

©Conni Cartlidge, 2010

Prairie Islands

He calls them prairie islands.
The isolated yard sites scattered across the Manitoba landscape.

Protective orderly borders of evergreens guard shaky poplars and sweet smelling lilacs.
Stoic four square, two storey houses with hip roofs and weathered siding.
Sagging grey outbuildings and gun metal machine sheds.
A doghouse for a mangy mutt.
Dandelions and hollyhocks.
A buzzing light at the top of a leaning hydro pole marking the spot.
The half-mile driveway, a lifeline to the outside world.

Some might see desolation and loneliness.
Lost lots.
But she sees possibility and hope.
Together, they can build their own prairie island.

A life raft in the blue sea of flax.
A shady umbrella in the blinding yellow canola crop.
A down comforter under the cold cotton sheet of new snow.
An oasis in the wheat field.

Where scrappy scrub oaks support the tender weeping willows.
Cheerful chickadees encourage mourning doves.
Foxtails tickle the bleeding hearts.
And with optimistic apprehension and tentative anticipation, a new family can grow.

Within a prairie island.



 
Conni from Clandeboye
December 2010
 

Wishing for you a safe haven, a secure family, your own prairie island.
 


©Conni Cartlidge, 2010
 

Discovering Diversity

“She’s a witch, Mom.”

“Oh, okay… so does that mean I shouldn’t buy her a Christmas present?”


“He’s Jewish, Mom.”

“Oh, okay… so does that mean you won’t be caroling around the bonfire at your party?”


“I don’t want to sing about ‘The Lord’ at my concert, Mom.”

“Oh, okay… but you were baptized in the Anglican church when you were a baby.”


“WalMart sells sweat shop stuff, Mom.”

“Oh, okay… I’ll try Canadian Tire instead.”


“I’m smudging the house with sweetgrass, Dear.”

“Oh, okay… I’ll blow out my candy cane scented candles then.”


“It’s a right wing capitalist plot to make us consumer slaves, Mom.”

“Oh, okay… I won’t buy or make any gifts for anybody, but can we still have a turkey dinner?”


“I’m a vegetarian, Mom.”

“Oh………okay.”


Welcome to December, 2004.

Diversity has arrived in Clandeboye.

So here’s what I’m gonna do.

I’ll be up all night keeping a solstice fire burning. I’ll provide hot dogs and marshmallows for roasting (but some of them will be soy based). This will keep the vegan, Metis witches happy.

I’ll buy gifts carefully, keeping in mind who made them and under what circumstances and I’ll give them to people who really need them, people who have nothing and no one. This will keep the anarchists happy (I think).

I’ll burn candles and incense and sweetgrass and logs and kindling and anything else that seems appropriately flammable so that we can all have lots of light and warmth and mystical scents to lift our spirits. This should keep the Christians and the Jews and the Buddhists and the atheists and the depressed happy.

I’ll play lots of music, but I won’t do any caroling because I just can’t sing. This should make everyone happy.

And I’ll celebrate moms and dads and newborn babies because every family is a miracle.

And especially, I’ll celebrate my family for opening my eyes to diversity.



Imagine. Peace.





©Conni Cartlidge, 2010

Thank You

Written in 1999 for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary and inspired by Ian Ross' character "Joe from Winnipeg". Posted now for my family and friends celebrating Thanksgiving...

Hey you guys, this is me, Conni from Clandeboye, and today I’m gonna be talking to you about saying thank you, cuz I was thinking about how my Mom and Dad had been married for fifty years and how we were gonna have a party and their friends and family were gonna come over and it was Thanksgiving weekend, too and some people couldn’t come cuz they were gonna be having Thanksgiving dinner with their families, and what should I say to all these people and to Mom and Dad?

And so I got thinking about saying thank you and how I learned about saying this from my Mom and Dad in different ways, cuz they were each different but some things were the same, too and they always kinda went together some how.

So anyways, I remembered my Dad’s old aunts and we always called them “the aunts” or “the great aunts” and every Christmas they sent us presents from all over the place, like Portugal and Japan and Holt/Renfrew and everywhere and they were usually really good presents but then we had to sit down and write a thank you note and sometimes I didn’t really feel like it but I did it cuz I had to and I usually felt like I had done the right thing after I had mailed it cuz I guess if the aunts could think of getting a present for me while they were busy travelling I guess I could take a few minutes to say thank you. And you know, every year I got more gifts from them and they never forgot about me and my sisters and my Dad was happy that we did the right thing cuz that was his Mom’s sisters and that’s important. And I guess that they probably liked my little notes on my little kid's paper cuz then they knew that I liked my present and that I liked them, too.

So anyways I got thinking about my Mom and I got thinking about her Mom and how they taught me to say thank you in Danish after supper. So when Gramma would come to visit and she would make her skinny pancakes or something and I would finish eating I would say, “Tak fa ma” or “Tak” and Mom and Gramma would look happy cuz I was saying thank you and I was saying it in Danish so I guess they knew that I liked the pancakes and I liked Danish stuff and that was important, too.

So anyways, now it’s Thanksgiving time and it’s Mom and Dad’s anniversary so I’ve got a few reasons to say thank you. I gotta say thank you to all the people who couldn’t come today cuz they’re with their families for Thanksgiving cuz it’s important to be with your family at least some of the time and I’m happy that that’s what they’re doing. And I gotta say thank you to all the people who could come today cuz it makes Mom and Dad happy to see all of you and give you something to eat and drink and have fun together and remember some of the things you’ve done together. And that’s important. And it’s kinda like saying thank you to all of you for being part of their lives. And I really gotta say thank you to Mom and Dad cuz they had me and my sisters and they always stuck by us when we were happy and especially when we weren’t, and they stuck by each other, even though they were different but somehow always kinda the same. So what’s up with that? Anyways, they’ve been married for fifty years now so I guess they figured out what they’re doing and I guess they got it right. So thank you and tak to Mom and Dad for teaching me about saying thanks and for teaching me some other stuff, too. Cuz that’s important.

I’m Conni from Clandeboye. Tusind tak!



©Conni Cartlidge, 1999

Aunties & Aunts

Our extended family was just that: stretched out, prolonged, intense, moving at full stride. They lived far away from us. They were sometimes hard to keep track of. They were fun sometimes, and sometimes not. In spite of all the obstacles, Mom made sure we knew them all. For they were our family.

Auntie Thora was the eldest and most glamorous. We had seen many pictures of her, with a dramatic gray streak in her hair and a cocktail in her hand. She lived in exotic San Francisco. She had been divorced. (What a scandal!) She had two wild sons who we discovered were NOT glamorous. Her California home had windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Despite the distance, Mom had us visit the Gould family. For they were our family.

Auntie Anna, the middle aunt, was fun. She could skip double dutch and do the jitterbug. She lived on a farm in Saskatchewan which we also considered glamorous in an earthy sort of way. She had SIX kids so there was always someone to play with. She could get the giggles just like a schoolgirl, and sometimes she was very sad. She was so real that we always cried when we left Sturgis. Despite the emotions, Mom had us visit the Paton family. For they were our family.

Auntie Alice was the youngest aunt. She, too was an American and had grown up there, far away from Mom. She had interesting American food like Danish Jelly and fruit cocktail cake and macaroni salad. She had an American accent and so did her three kids. She had another Mom, which somehow seemed to make perfect sense to us when we were small. She made us laugh when she worried and fussed about things. She welcomed us into her home. Despite the cramped quarters, Mom had us visit the Chamley family. For they were our family.

And Mom did not stop with her own siblings. She initiated and nurtured a loving relationship with Dad’s family, too. Now these members were known as the Aunts for they were far too distinguished and dignified to be called “Auntie”. They lived in Ottawa and Montreal and they were beyond glamorous. They were upper class, they were old money, they were professionals, and most of them were unmarried and extremely independent. They traveled around the world and bought us gifts that were unlike anyone else’s on Sutherland Avenue. They rang a small bell to summon their maid. They were Con, Doss, Ruth, Mary and Olive. They helped to raise our Dad. They were our family.

I hope that I have learned from Mom. With nephews and a niece in Edmonton, Vancouver and Thunder Bay, I hope I can build those family connections in spite of distance, emotions, space or class. For they are my extended family.



©Conni Cartlidge, 2010

Time to Think (An Election Week Story)

I learned a new word last week: prorogue. Made me think of professional, proactive, pros & cons, rogue elephants, mischievous rogues…but what it turned out to mean was the ending of a legislative assembly. The current prorogation (yes, another new word for me!) was different because the Governor General had to step in and call it. The parliamentary boys behaving badly were sent for a time out, a cool down, a chance to think about what they had done. Sounded like a good idea to me. So I prorogued myself. I stopped and took some time to think about what I did this past year. And this is what I remembered:

* Quietly savouring the cold January day that marked my 20th birthday in AA, and gratefully acknowledging the strong women and patient husband who have stood by me all these years.

* Joe leading Mary and I on a springtime hike through the bush and witnessing dozens of baby turtles swimming and bobbing and playing in the deep waters of a deserted gravel pit. The sight was worth every wood tick we later picked off of ourselves.

* Singing along to Amy Winehouse, too loudly and enthusiastically, on the summer road trip out east, and then suffering the humiliation of said singing being posted on Facebook. Thank you dear daughter.

* Bonding with my daughter-in-(common) law, Morgan, as she painstakingly, and only a little painfully, tattoos a maple seed on to my right wrist. A small symbol of my children – sometimes messy, but able to thrive and grow no matter where they fly or land.

* Listening to my sons jam together; Ari on banjo and Joe on guitar, and vice versa.

* Waking up at 2:00 am in a Toronto hotel room to the sounds of quiet sobbing as Brent, Joe and I feel the emptiness of Mary’s absence. Subsequently, the tears have turned to laughter as we watch her stand up routines at YukYuk’s, via youtube.

* Working with Brent to prepare our home for monthly house concerts with some Folk Festival favourites. The scrounged ping pong table stage is a great addition to the performance. Even our friends at the back of the room can enjoy the show!

* Sharing the heartbreaking grief of a young man’s death and trying to find the words to console his mother – the most difficult letter I have ever written for the saddest experience she has ever known.

* Riding my bike alongside my Dad on his 80th birthday during the Terry Fox run.

* Making rollepolser with Mom and remembering Grandma Pedersen as we work together. Was it an accident that Mom poked me with the sewing needle when we wondered aloud if we were making it according to Grandma’s standards?

* Anticipating full rooms in a partially empty nest during the holidays!

So my prorogation has been a success. I have taken time to think. My experiences have had nothing to do with economics or political parties. They are about a strong coalition of family and friends. To the politicians, I say, “Be thankful you have been prorogued. Think carefully about your actions. Try to solve your problems in new ways. Play nice. We’re counting on you.”

(Originally written in December 2008)




©Conni Cartlidge, 2008

Clothes: A Story About Mom

The clothes that we wore, the way we were dressed, the outfits we put together, have always been reflections of you.

One of my earliest memories of you is something you wore – the brown quilted skirt. What I remember best about it is using it for dress-up clothes in our pretend play, but I always knew it was yours and it was special and quite unique. Over the years, you tried many different styles…long hair, short hair (always red!), cat’s eye glasses, ‘cat-in-the-hat’ hats, cowboy boots and shirts, pedal pushers, jeans, pant suits, swim suits, polyester gowns, tennis shorts, tennis skirts, tennis shoes, running shoes, cameos, copper jewelry, and Hudson’s Bay & Linda Lundstrom jackets. We watched you change over the years, yet there was always a basic, consistent style that was you. You accepted the way you looked with little or no make-up, hair dyes, flashy jewels, high heels or gaudy colours. You were a great role model for us. You cared about how you looked but in a down to earth, comfortable sort of way.

When we were little, you were careful with the way we looked, too. Matching outfits purchased for Thora and Nancy would be gently cared for so that they could eventually become matching outfits for Nancy and me, and finally I would grow into the original Thora dress and wear it solo. How did you ever get those little cherry dresses and plaid sailor dresses to last so long? You performed the same miracle with our tights, carefully darning the toes until they could be darned no more. At that point, the feet of the tights would be removed, the legs hemmed, an elastic stitched on to hook under our arches, and
coordinating knee socks slipped over to keep our otherwise bare toes warm. You had already discovered the layered look!

On the first day of school, we always had a new ensemble for the obligatory photograph. New dresses and jumpers were often purchased during our summer travels, while new shoes were found at Edward’s on Manitoba Avenue. The lives of these outfits were also prolonged with careful use: dresses, jumpers and blouses were worn for two days in a row, with clean underwear daily! All items were set out by you the night before. What a great feeling it was to go to bed every night knowing that you had carefully prepared every detail for us.

We were always told (by you) that you could not sew and we accepted that because… you could knit the most amazing sweaters, hats, scarves and Barbie clothes in the world! There was always a warm siwash to wrap up in or a spectacular Mary Maxim sweater to keep out the cold. You knit for us throughout our lives and now you create for our children, too. We all appreciated the Aussie sweaters you made for us down under. How DID you knit in that sweltering heat??

While you tried out different looks over the years, you also tolerated our experiments in fashion! Pixie cuts, platform shoes, stretchies, mini midi & maxi skirts, hot pants, polyester, crushed velvet, bubble blouses, India cotton shirts, hippie plaid shirts with ripped & faded jeans, jean skirts, perms, afros, shags, blue mascara, black mascara, green mascara, green nail polish, halter tops, Joe Cocker shirts, smock tops, fake fur, real fur, pierced ears, clogs and earth shoes. You endured all of these, letting us express ourselves as we chose. Your example makes it easier for me to watch my own son dye his hair black or wear a necktie with a t-shirt!

Amazingly, I think we all ended up having pretty good taste in clothes! Shopping trips to Tergesen’s sure help! There have always been many ways that you showed us how much you loved us. Clothes may seem superficial, but the time you took with ours was filled with acceptance and care; a reflection of your love for us.

Thanks Mom.

(This was originally written about ten years ago and is being posted now to honour my Mom on her 80th birthday on October 19, 2010.)



©Conni Cartlidge, 2000